Okay, luckily the Bad Sports Category for MM isn't filled and closed up yet. I've been busy driving my hoomans busy, hence the late entry. Hehe.
The judge for this category is non other than the gorgeous, smart, humorous, ethical, sexy Fiona. I'm definitely not sucking up, I'm just stating the truth just in case you're thinking otherwise.
I actually thought I belonged to the Cracker Dog category, until Ms. Fiona very nicely pointed out in her entry the different ways you can tell which category one rightly belongs.
"If your name has been followed with the word ‘no’ so often that your name has permanently changed from (fr’instance) “Billy” to “Billy-no”, you’re a Bad Sport. If your name hasn’t actually changed, but is spoken with an exasperated sigh very frequently, you could very well be a Bad Sport, although that isn’t a guarantee."
This, I believe, is self explanatory. I might look like an innocent cute, goody-two-shoes dog, but beneath this puppy face, is a mean ol' machine.
I don't spend my time sleeping away, I use my hours when the hoomans are out at work/school, to scheme the most devious plans to plot my revenge if I think I don't get enough attention or food from (which is always).
When I was about 2 years old, my Mom made the biggest mistake by putting a whole pot of yummy soy sauce chicken breast meat on the dining table. I distracted her over to the teevee set, and once I made sure everyone was comfortable in front of the teevee set, or doing whatever they were doing, paying no attention to me, I jumped onto the bench, and then leaped onto the table, and gobbled the whole pot of chicken.
This is one of my (failed) attempts to sneak onto the table for some good noms. The hoomans learn quick..
I also do not let the hoomans take my chew stick when they want it. It doesn't matter if I wasn't chewing on it at first. If I see that they take it, I want it. It's MINE.
I also do not care much about hygiene. I do know that wiping the water off of me is good for me, and that cleaning my ears is also supposedly good for me, and so is brushing my teeth. But being the bad dog that I am, I will not go without a fight.
I make it pin point clear to the small critters that the balcony is mine. I do this EVERYTIME without fail when A lets the hamsters out.
I do not come when being called. Nope. I make the hoomans come after me, and carry me (that is if they manage to catch me.) Unless, of course, they have noms.
I don't care that I'm home, if I hear other dogs being walked downstairs the house, I howl and I bark. Even if the hoomans scream for me, or ask me to stop, I refuse to. The other dogs in the neighborhood gotta know who's boss, and that is ME.
I also start singing if the hoomans leave me downstairs and go up to sleep. I don't stop until I'm on any of their beds.
I destroy stuffies that do not belong to me. I snatch the hoomans' stuffies to show them I'm the boss.
I make the hoomans HAND-feed me.
Once I make them know that I'm the boss, I stop eating no matter what they say.
& I go for something else.
When the hoomans take back the food they had for me initially, I will make them feed me again.
I sniff out the new foodables that they have bought for me, and take em' out of the bags so I can make them feed me. Even if I had a most filling dinner.
Also, if I feel that anyone in the family has no respect for me, or thinks that they own me, my bladder loses control. I have no peektures of this because the hoomans can't stand seeing my markings.
Also, if you realized, I'm actually wearing socks. Only 3 of them because I "dropped" one to nowhere. The hoomans still can't find it.
So there. These are just some of the many things I've done.
I don't deny being a Bad Sport. I thrive on being one. Bahaha.
I'm not one to turn to bribery, but I'm more than willing to share some good noms around here. Just thought I'd let you know.